"I swear to you, Monsieur Villeforte, I will find her, I swear it! Please, just give me another chance! Please!"

Leon put his pistol back into holster, allowing the cowering man before him to get to his feet.

"Stand up, you toad. I have no use for your disgusting excuses. Now, explain to me again why dear Remy's head is not on a platter before me. Metaphorically speaking, of course." He stepped away and began pacing in front of the fire. "A head on a platter would trail blood everywhere, leave stains on my cloths, lead the police here, smell horrible...no, as fun as that might be, it just isn't worth the mess. No, I don't really care what you do with her body as long as I see it before you bury it. To make sure she's dead, of course. You understand, after your previous failures, I'm not entirely sure I trust you to finish the job. Now, you were about to explain?"

Leon sat gracefully back into his chair and waited. Henri stood nervously in front of him, wringing his hands in front of him, sweat dripping down his forehead, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"There was a man...with her..." He ran his sweaty hand against his sweaty forehead, trying, to no avail, to reduce the moisture there. "He was protecting her. He killed Jacques. He would have killed me, but I..."

"You ran like a little cow." Leon leaned forward. "A man, you say? So, my little whore of a fiancee found herself a new dupe to look after her. Interesting. So, tell me a little something about this mystery man."

"He...um...was...uh...tall?"

"I'm asking you, you idiot, not the other way around."

"He had...let's see...dark...ah...hair, and, well..."

"I'm waiting."

"Sir, it was very dark, sir, and sir, I couldn't see well, sir."

"And I imagine it is hard to get a look at someone when you are running away." Leon smirked and fingered the pearl handle of his revolver lovingly. Henri took a deep breath; trying to remember was putting an enormous strain on his tiny brain. Finally, his eyes lit up with the glow of a man who has just avoided getting shot by an impatient psychopath.

"He was wearing a mask, sir. A white mask on the right side of his face. It came off.. Right after he..tackled me. I didn't see what was underneath." Leon raised an eyebrow. "It was very dark, sir. Very dark. Almost black, sir. Quite hard to see."

"Well, I am astonished. You have proved quite useful."

Henri smiled broadly. "Well, thank you sir, I..." Leon jumped from his desk, slamming his palms down hard, making Henri jump.

"That doesn't mean your contract has ended!" His eyes narrowed into slits, as he stared at the frightened man. "You are going to go gather some information for me. If some masked man lives in an opera house, there is someone in this damnable city who knows something. Try the local taverns, you might get lucky and find some drunken hussy to tell you all the local legends. Find out anything you can."

"Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir."

"Now, I am going to find myself some braver men. About a dozen, I think, will do the trick." He sat back down, and placed his feet on the desk. "A second fox in our little hunt. I get the feeling this whole wretched business is about to get more amusing."

He was a little sorry that he had been forced into this, chasing the foolish girl across France, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy himself while he hunted her. After all, Paris was a very amusing city, full of beautiful women who were more than willing to bed a wealthy, mysterious nobleman like himself. And now, with his parents gone, he was finally free of the facade he had been forced to keep up his entire life. The tiresome game of trying to please his desperately old-fashioned parents was finished for good, and now he could do as he wished, and spend his new fortune.

He had to thank Remy, really, for this new freedom. He couldn't have found a better, more convincing scapegoat if he had tried, and she had thrown herself headlong into his net. Poor girl. On the wrong side of twenty-five, and still not married. It was no wonder she had been so easily snared by his casual attentions.

He had never meant to become engaged to her, let alone marry her, but the situation had worked out perfectly. All he had to do was dance with her a few times, and whisper some compliments in her delicate ears, and she was his. She had told him her little secret, the story of her bastard beginnings, and all the pieces had fallen into place.

A few lovely gifts of flowers and chocolate, and she had consented to marry him. And everyone in the town knew that she wanted very badly to be married. His parents had acted just as he predicted when he told them that his wife-to-be was the offspring of a dancing girl; they had refused to let the union take place. And simply as that, he had given Remy a motive for the murder. Never mind that her innocent little mind would never have thought of such a thing; she had been full of good intentions, reassuring him that together, they could win his parents over. But after a year, when it looked as though his parents would never consent, she became impatient, insisting that if he loved her, he would defy them. And the motive increased. Then, all he had needed to do was kill the old tyrants, and place the poison where she would find it. Once she confronted him, and carelessly left fingerprints all over it, he just called the gendarmes, and had them haul her to jail. When he revealed her secret, the entire town was more than willing to believe that she had killed the Villefortes. After all, you couldn't trust a gypsy.

The witch part he had thrown in for the pure fun of it. And, of course, as revenge for leaving such an ugly scar on his cheek. It amazed him how easy the whole thing had been. His word had gotten the whole town on his side, with the exception of that stupid priest,who had actually had the nerve to defend the girl. That had only been a minor problem, though, dealt with by writing a very sentimental letter to Bishop Chausson regarding the tragic death of his parents; and the obvious need to transfer Father Renault to another parish.

He felt a great deal of satisfaction when he recalled visiting dear Remy in prison with her grandfather, and watching as the old man vented his disgust with the granddaughter he had previously doted on. It was a truly beautiful moment, seeing the tears on her face as she begged Monsieur Neuvillette to believe her, knowing that he, Leon Villeforte, had won.

And then she had gone and spoiled all his fun. She had taken advantage of a drunken guard, and fled to the new home of her priest friend, Father Renault, in Lorraine. By the time he got there to fetch her home so that she could attend her execution, she had already left. Even killing Renault hadn't made up for letting her slip from his grasp. But she had a new friend here in Paris, so now he got to kill two people instead of just one. It was odd, how much fun taking life was. His parents' deaths had given him a taste for it, and now he couldn't get enough. Now, all he had to decide was if he should kill Remy first, and get her out of the way, or kill her new companion first, and make her watch. He rather liked the sound of the latter; he would make her beg for mercy, then cut her beautiful little throat. Yes, this would be fun.

A/N: Yeah, he's a psycho. In case you had yet to figure that out.